


Home

by Howlingdawn



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Blood, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26843368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: Even Nick has his breaking point, and when he finally reaches it, Ellie is there to catch him.(Whumptober Day Five - On The Run, Rescue)
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949191
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the one and only Whumptober fic I actually managed to write before October, despite deciding to try doing the whole month way back in early September. I'm good at planning and time management.

Blood roared in his ears, drowned out only by his ragged breaths. Shadowy back alleys flashed past, graffiti blurring together, trash crunching beneath his feet. He hurled himself up an old fence, blood running down his arm to stain the silver metal red, the days-old gunshot wound beneath the bandage screaming a protest. He dropped to the other side, knees buckling beneath him, wasting precious seconds as he struggled to straighten up, his abused body unwilling to resume the punishing sprint.

_Too late._

His pursuers came streaming around the corner, about to take their turn leaping the fence. He had stopped feeling proud eight days ago that the threat he posed to the drug cartel warranted their best five-man team being sent to deal with him; after nearly a week of running, hiding, barely eating, barely sleeping, all the while unable to get a message to NCIS, all the while not seeing a single sign that they were close to finding him, he had just wanted to go home.

Something it seemed like he would never be able to do now.

But he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He hauled himself up and crashed through the nearest door, finding a cluttered, abandoned warehouse. He slipped behind the nearest pile of cobweb-covered storage crates, clapping a hand over his mouth and nose to quiet his breaths.

They followed him inside, the leading thug ordering one man to guard the door while the others split up, taking four different directions deeper into the warehouse. Nick waited for them to disappear from view, stubbornly ignoring his desperate need for more air. He waited… waited… waited…

_Now._

He attacked, knocking the guard’s gun from his hand with a loud clatter and locking him in a chokehold before he even realized what was happening. He struggled, writhing in Nick’s grip, clawing at his arms, but Nick held on, sinking to the ground with him as he weakened and, finally, passed out.

Just in time for the first of his teammates to return, opening fire before Nick had even dropped the body.

He dove for the dropped gun, rolling into cover behind metal shelves stocked full of boxes, only for another man to come to the other end of the aisle. On his stomach, Nick fired, missing once, the second shot hitting him in the shoulder. He screamed, stumbling, and Nick was on his feet in an instant, sprinting at him and slamming the butt of his gun into his face. He crumpled, and Nick crouched, reaching for his gun.

The first man rounded the corner shooting, forcing Nick back before he could grab the backup weapon. He fled deeper into the warehouse, dodging between shelves and stacks of crates, glancing over his shoulder when the shooting paused.

A fist to the face greeted him the moment he did.

He staggered back, and the third man grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him forward just to punch him again. Nick brought his gun up, but the fourth man came up behind him, twisting his wrist until the gun slipped from his fingers. He grabbed Nick’s other arm, fingers clenching around the bullet wound, and in the moment Nick screamed, he kicked his leg out from under him.

Nick collapsed, the third man giving him a shove to add insult to injury. His forehead cracked against the nearby shelf, blood immediately spilling from the cut. The world wavered, blood dripping into his eyes, blackness rolling across his vision, but he clung to consciousness, planting his palms against the ground.

A gun cocked behind him. “Please, get up,” one man taunted. “I would love to see the fear in your eyes when I kill you.”

Nick lifted his chin, setting his jaw, but stayed down. “As if I would give you the satisfaction,” he growled.

In an instant, the man knelt beside him and fired the gun right next to Nick’s ear.

He flinched, looking away, aware of the barrel pressing against the back of his head, guessing the man was giving him a last warning, but the deafening ringing in his ear blocked out most other sound. Clenching his fist, he glared up at the two men watching them, and waited for the final shot.

Muffled gunshots rang out.

His attackers whirled away from him, opening fire on whoever was attacking him.

Seizing his chance, Nick forced himself to his feet and ran.

His would-be killer caught up to him in seconds, spinning him around and slamming him back against a support column. Nick grabbed the hands wrapping around his throat, tugging futilely with everything he had, the red-stained world fading… fading…

A final gunshot cut through the room.

Nick and his attacker collapsed.

He grabbed his gun, pushing himself back to his feet and taking aim at the nearest blurry figure, stumbling back.

“Nick!”

_Ellie?_

The fight left him in a heartbeat, but he clung to the lingering adrenaline keeping him on his feet, keeping his shaking hands aiming the gun. He shook his head, blinking away the blood, willing away the ringing. He had to be hallucinating. Was he dead already? Was he about to drop dead? She couldn’t-

The figure approached. “It’s ok, Nick,” she murmured. “It’s me. It’s Ellie.”

No. He wasn’t hallucinating. He could barely see, could barely hear, but he knew that voice. He would know her anywhere.

“Ellie,” he rasped.

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could hear it. “Yeah,” she said, a rough edge to her soothing voice. “Give me the gun, Nick. You’re safe now.”

Her hands, small and warm and gentle, wrapped around his, and he let her fingers slip between his, prying the gun from his grip. She handed it off, and he let her guide him towards her, tucking him against her. “I’m gonna clean up that blood, ok? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He leaned into the sleeve she dabbed ever so carefully across his eyes, and slowly, the world came back into focus, and there she was, smiling at him through the tears welling in her eyes.

He had imagined this moment a million times during the assignment, and a million more since everything had gone wrong. He had imagined kissing her, cracking a joke, doing something badass to impress her.

He did none of that.

He suddenly couldn’t hold himself up anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t have to.

So he threw his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, and let his legs give out. She caught him, sinking to the ground with him, one arm around his waist, the other coming up to brace him, her hand cradling the back of his head. “I’ve got you,” she promised, a hint of a wobble breaking through her voice. “I’ve got you, Nick.”

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

He just laid in her arms, her tender kisses and gentle touches calming his racing heart, and knew he was safe.

He was home.


End file.
